Tomorrow
by Denwa
Summary: And I have loved you in secret. [Orochimaru, Sasuke.]


**tomorrow.**  
_written by the loved birds._

* * *

**- **

**i. hi**

**- **

It is never warm in Otogakure, nor is it ever cold—it is _hot, hot, hot_ and Sasuke's skin burns with the heat radiating off of him. He says to Kabuto, _I'm fine_ in a tepid manner; _it's just the heat_, but Kabuto is worried that the younger boy is coming down with an intense fever.

The snake man—the cursed man, that Orochimaru man—says, _No, the Uchiha clan used to specialize in fire-based jutsu_ and the way he says _used to_ makes Sasuke sick in his stomach.

Those frequent bodily heat waves died down when he goes back to their underground hideout (_It's a runaway place_, Sasuke used to think bitterly to himself when he was thirteen but he is fourteen-and-a-half; a year and a half has passed and he now says, _It's okay—I can deal with it_). It is still hot—but not unbearably so—and muggy—not as steamy as the other half of the world above him (the world Naruto, Kakashi, and Sakura live in and the world he cast away for power).

In the late evening (it's cold now), Orochimaru proposes, _Ne, Sasuke-kun, since you've been so patient today, how about I teach you a Suiton jutsu? It would be excellent for your arsenal._

Sasuke is tempted to say, _No, fucker, because I don't _want_ to learn a stupid Suiton jutsu from you, bastard_ but instead he keeps his cool (what a pun in such a hot summer day) because that was what he was known for and he says sharply, _No, thank you. I don't want my dearest dead mother to think that I am training under an inhuman wretch like you—_

But Sasuke is cut off when he feels his dubbed _inhuman wretch_'s perpetually cold lips on his and when he feels his dubbed _inhuman wretch_'s perpetually cold hands roaming his warm (too warm for him, even though he is used to fire) body and that is not the only time where Sasuke has _hated, hated, hated_ his dubbed _inhuman wretch_ more than anything with a hate that would make even his brother proud.

-

**ii.**** kaze**

**-  
**

Sasuke _hates, hates, hates_ the way Orochimaru's—the snake man—name rolls off his tongue so damn _easily_ like picking dandelions and blowing them into the world, watching the drift off, and it's probably intentional. Who would name their child after a villain? A nasty, long-tongued villain—that is his teacher.

Well, no—technically, Hatake Kakashi is his teacher, but Kabuto says that Sasuke ran away (he _hates, hates, hates_ that term even more than he hates Orochimaru's name) from him.

_Orochimaru,_ he sometimes says silently to himself. _Orochimaru… Orochimaru… Orochimaru_—it goes like that as if he was infatuated with that _inhuman wretch_'s name—or worse, his face. Or whatever—his brother would say, _What are you doing, Sasuke?_ if he was seven and if he was fourteen-and-a-half (not yet ready for his own decisions and yet he is making them), his brother would say, _What the hell are you doing instead of training to become stronger?_

Sometimes he pronounces things in a Mizu no Kuni accent—the slurring of the syllables, like distant waves hitting against soft beaches; sometimes he pronounces it in his native Hi no Kuni accent—somewhat sharp but nostalgic, like the weather. When he is finally caught, he is caught by that _inhuman wretch_.

_What are you doing, Sasuke-kun?_ that inhuman wretch asks.

_Practicing,_ he answered.

(Speaking of all of his quirks and habits, the most annoying thing—Kabuto says so—about Sasuke was that he says his fours like _shi_, not _yon_, even though _Shidaime_ sounded utterly _ridiculous_—Kabuto says so. He liked that number—and the number nine—and Kabuto says, _Those are unlucky numbers, Sasuke-kun_ and Sasuke grunts in reply.)

It's not much, though, this life.

-

**iii. tsuchi**

**-  
**

He has a natural hand in calligraphy—that he knows because Orochimaru makes him do it. What he doesn't have a natural hand in, however, is botany (what Kabuto teaches him, and how to treat wounds and basic poisons). He is clumsy in flower arranging (he has never figured out _why_ he needed _flower arranging_ to _kill his brother_); sometimes the flowers are awkward from his calloused hands.

_Sasuke-kun, you're doing it wrong_, Orochimaru constantly scolds. _Flowers are delicate. They bruise easily_, and then, at the end of his excruciatingly painful lesson, he stares out into an empty space before him, thinking about nothing and he says nothing to Kabuto, who is rearranging his medical kit (he was almost out of supplies for Sasuke got wounded so easily). There is silence between them until Kabuto opens his delicate mouth and speaks breezily.

_Certainly you're not thinking of Konohagakure, are you?_ he asks with the innocence of a child. Sasuke freezes for a hesitant split second and relaxes. Kabuto rinses something in the sink. _Of course—that's because you've cut your ties with everything. Right?_ Behind his glasses, there is a gleam—not a good one, predicts Sasuke, but the medic doesn't say anything as he opens the door and quietly steps out.

At night, that _inhuman wretch_ visits him in bed, cradling a basket of flowers and leer on his face. His cold, fragile hands touch Sasuke's face for a haunting, fleeting moment before they slowly shrug of his grey hakama. It didn't hurt as much—both his body and his almost nonexistent heart.

_Certainly you're not thinking of Konohagakure, are you?_ the _inhuman wretch_ asks with bruised, dry flowers in their hands. _Surely, after holding these flowers, you don't think of that girl with her flower namesake. Surely, after finding them brittle, you don't think of that boy—that very special boy—and his determination to not to crack and break down._

When Sasuke clenched his hands, the remainders of white gardenia flitted from his grasp.

_I love you in secret_, he whispered angrily to himself when that _inhuman wretch_ left—that white snake man never slept with him. _I love you in secret, I love you in secret, I love you in secret_.

Sasuke _hated, hated, hated_ him.

-

**iv. sui**

**-  
**

He needed more than a diaphanous hope to do Suiton jutsu—Kabuto patiently explained one day while bringing him the best five towels they had, _Your natural elements are fire and electricity; water would be the exact opposite_. Instead of thanking the medic, Sasuke snarled, _What do you think I am—a child?_ Kabuto sighed long-sufferingly and replied with not an edge, _At this rate, Sasuke-kun, you will never grow up_.

_Never grow—what the hell is that supposed to mean?_

_Just practice your Suiton jutsu, Sasuke-kun—Orochimaru-sama is to test you this afternoon_.

But _I love you in secret_ kept on invading Sasuke's head and _That girl with her flower namesake_ and _That boy—that very special boy—and his determination to not to crack and break down_ with it.

_I have a headache_, he said.

_I'll fix it_, Kabuto said.

_No, that's fine. Go back to your… your… flower arranging._

_But—_

_I said that I'm fine._

When afternoon rolled along, he passed that _inhuman wretch_'s test just fine.

-

**v. kuu**

**-  
**

_What do you think of this?_ asks Orochimaru innocently, holding a bouquet of yellow and orange flowers up to Sasuke's face, squatting down to watch the fallen boy. The boy's scowl is ugly and the boy replies, _It's a waste of space._

_A waste of space,_ repeats that _inhuman wretch_. _A—waste—of—space. Is that how you really think or is that just some made-up façade?_ He laughs and Sasuke shivers helplessly, caught in the snake's trap. _I know you better than that of you think, Sasuke-kun. I know, for a fact, that you hate water—of course; it's something you're going to have to get used to. I know, for a fact, that your heart is not truly with us. I know, for a fact, that when you are abed with me, you do not think of me—you think of that girl and that boy. Right?_

He wants to say _No_, but instead he chokes back nonexistent tears and swallows the both bitter and brackish aftertaste of his decision (leaving Sakura, leaving Naruto, leaving his _home_, leaving his _ghosts_) and says in almost a whisper, lying facedown on the ground, _Why do you continue to pull me up? Why can't you just leave me alone to die?_

_Do you want to die, Sasuke-kun? Painfully or peacefully?_ That _inhuman wretch_ laughs. _Are you content to die even though you are aware that you haven't killed your brother yet? Really, Sasuke-kun—the vulgar words that come out of your sweet mouth. I don't happen to like vulgar people, you know. _The snake man laughs again, and he looks down upon Sasuke—the fledgling with its wings clipped off.

_Why?_ he asks again with an edge to it. _Why in hell do you do this to me? Why in hell do you give me flowers that mean _I love you in secret_ and _Jealousy_ and—and… and…_

_Don't you like them?_

_No,_ he replies, his throat burning. _I hate them. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. I hate them more than I hate my brother. I hate them._

_You—_

—_Still haven't answered my question._

He hears the man sigh above him and a frightening silence envelopes them.

_Because, Sasuke-kun,_ that _inhuman wretch_ answers apathetically, _doesn't it hurt when you fall down too much?_ He gets up after that, leaves the bouquet near Sasuke's face where he could smell their ugly fragrances, and walks away.

_We will continue tomorrow_, he calls out, not turning back, and Sasuke is counting the number of steps he takes to get back into their secret hideaway.

_I love you in secret_, whispers Sasuke to himself, and he is lying.


End file.
